


Nesta/Self-Respect

by Drizzt_Do_Urden



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Canon has been taken out back and shot, F/M, Fix Fic, Fix-It, I REGRET NOTHING, Nesta/Self-Respect - Freeform, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Revenge fic, Self-Indulgent, Short, Swearing, The Author Regrets Nothing, Wow This Got Famous Fast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drizzt_Do_Urden/pseuds/Drizzt_Do_Urden
Summary: Nesta has self-respect and decides to leave the Night Court, but not before flipping the bird to every single member of the Spring Court.
Relationships: Azriel & Cassian (ACoTaR), Elain Archeron & Feyre Archeron & Nesta Archeron, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron & Cassian, Nesta/Self-Respect
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Nesta/Self-Respect

"Greetings, everyone," Nesta announced as she stood up on the podium, overlooking the crowd of scumbags dressed in fancy clothes known as the Inner Circle. "I'd just like to say...welcome to my party."   
Nesta then plastered a big smile and added,

"Because it's the last one you'll ever be invited to." 

As expected, everyone in the room gasped in shock.

"How dare you!" that bitch known as Feyre cried, her face a mask of self-righteous fury. "We have been-"

"And the reason why that is," Nesta announced loudly, stopping Feyre's little lecture before it could begin. "Is because all of you are selfish pieces of shit that no one in their right minds would tolerate. Like, for example," 

Nesta pointed to Cassian, dressed in his Illyrian fighting leathers, smirking at her with a disgustingly lecherous expression on his face. 

"You, Cassian, General of the High Lord's armies, and also a man who refuses to learn that _no_ means _no_."

"And you're a bitch who's been blue-balling me since the day we met," Cassian retorted, gritting his teeth in anger. 

At that, Nesta laughed sharply. What a disgustingly male way to put that; what an _entitled_ way of reframing things, truly. How on earth had he gotten anyone to sleep with him with that attitude?

"Which is man language for _I'm an obsessive creep who keeps pursuing a woman who has shown absolutely no interest in me_ ," she snapped back. "And not something you'd expect such a strong proponent of gender equality to say." 

Nesta shrugged. 

"But then again, if you, Azriel, and his High Lordship really cared about that," she added, "You could just round up all those Illyrian pricks who refuse to get with the program and have their heads cut off. I mean, it is within His Highness's right to do so. Yet, he _doesn't_ for some reason."

"You-!" Rhys growled, but Nesta cut him off. 

"Oh, but that's not even the height of your hypocrisy, is it, Your Lordship?" she pointed out. "Your relationship with the High Lady literally began with you twisting her arm, didn't it? And you actually _capitulated_ to those bastards in the Hewn City even though you've shown us you can just order them around and treat them like trash." 

"That's because-" Rhys protested, but Nesta wasn't having any of that. Not tonight. Not anymore. 

"Oh, I could go on and on about your flaws, Lord Rhysand, but I'll just focus on one in particular tonight: how much fucking money you hoard. You have like, three palaces you don't need, and there are still homeless people on the street in Velaris. People in crappy slums. You know, like the one Feyre stuffed Elain and I into. " 

Nesta's eyes at last hit upon Feyre, that bitch of a younger sister. Who was now swanning about like a damned queen in her glittery dress and tiara that could've fed them for the rest of their lives back home.

"And speaking of her...I'll admit it, Feyre. I used to be a bitch to you back when we were starving. You were the one who did most of the hunting, and I should've done more to help up." 

After her admission of guilt, Nesta seethed in fury. 

"But that does _not_ justify sticking Elain and I in a slum, all the while holding the rent money over our heads so we could be your fucking _puppets_!" Nesta snarled.

Elain began to tear up at that accusation. 

"Nesta, please-" 

"Yeah, listen to her, Nesta," Feyre insisted. "Listen-" 

"No!" Nesta cried. " _You_ listen! Look at yourself, Feyre! You used to _hate_ the wealthy! The people who hoarded jewels and fancy clothes and lived in their mansions while the rest of us rotted! And now...you're _one_ of them! Your money is all that matters to you now! Not me, not Elain...because you're so willing to toss her to these Fae pricks who want to get into her pants!"

Nesta glared at Azriel.

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to, mister. I know what you want."

Nesta glared at Feyre and Rhysand and said, 

"And the few times you do pretend to care about us, it's a paper-thin excuse to get us to play along with whatever you're doing at the moment. Whether it's destroying our fucking house, or dragging us along to negotiation talks and into a literal war, it doesn't matter. You claim that we had a choice, but we never did. Because the only other choice was death." 

Nesta glanced at Elain and added, 

"Because I actually care, I won't make you follow me. But if you do, you will always be welcome at my house." 

Nesta then lifted up her goblet of wine, dined on it, and concluded, 

"Now, that's all I have to say to you lovely, fine sacks of shit. Eat dirt, and enjoy your ivory tower. I, however, will be taking my leave." 

And with that, Nesta ripped off her dress, revealing fighting leathers underneath. She then flipped each and every attendee the bird before winnowing out of the Night Court for good. 

  



End file.
